


The Extravagant Self-Destruct of Parsley Botch

by Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat



Series: The Smiling Twenties [3]
Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst, Break Up, Father-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat/pseuds/Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat
Summary: Parsey didn’t really have the relationships in his life together. He never talked to his mother, but that was in part that she had left him and his father when he was pretty young. He and his father never really connected in a healthy way. The best they had ever done was get drunk together, which hadn’t been a good idea for many reasons. And when Parsley was old enough, he left his dad behind. He didn’t want to, he loved his father, but they were always fighting. He didn’t even know why, he just knew that his dad got angry and he would get angry back. He wanted to stop the fighting so bad, but he didn’t know how.Then there was Martin.





	The Extravagant Self-Destruct of Parsley Botch

Parsley Botch wasn’t always a sensible man.

There were certain areas of his life that were completely together. His job for example. He was one of the best public defenders in the city, with several cases of getting his clients off. And even when he didn’t, it was because pretty much everyone, including himself, knew they were guilty. He had stopped drinking two years ago, and was proudly sober. Although, with prohibition, he didn’t have much of a choice. But as he made his way through the city streets on the cold fall night, he knew that was about to change.

Parsey didn’t really have the relationships in his life together. He never talked to his mother, but that was in part that she had left him and his father when he was pretty young. He and his father never really connected in a healthy way. The best they had ever done was get drunk together, which hadn’t been a good idea for many reasons. And when Parsley was old enough, he left his dad behind. He didn’t want to, he loved his father, but they were always fighting. He didn’t even know why, he just knew that his dad got angry and he would get angry back. He wanted to stop the fighting so bad, but he didn’t know how. 

Then there was Martin.

When he and Martin had met, everything had been like paradise. They had been good friends for years, and when Parsley couldn’t hold his feelings in anymore, he was pleasantly surprised to find that not only was he not beaten to a pulp or arrested, but that he was kissed pretty soundly on the lips. They had been together ever since. Law school had been rough on them both, and they found themselves pitted against each other in the courtroom from time to time, but none of it broke their relationship. They had even gotten married, although of course not legally. Things went downhill from there though. Martin and Parsley had very different ideas about marriage. Parsley thought they’d get comfortable in their own little apartment, share a space, share a life. Martin, perhaps too scared of what the world would think, didn’t want to do that. Maybe he was afraid of someone finding out about them, or maybe he just didn’t feel the need for that closeness after their new bond. Parsley wasn’t sure, but he did know that it wasn’t going to end well.

By the time he got to the supposed speakeasy, he had almost forgotten what their fight had been about in the first place. But the accusations of illegal drinking and caring more for the bottle than for Martin caught up with him in a guilty way when he realized that was exactly what he was doing. He stood in front of the laundromat, debating with himself. He should go back and apologize and the two of them could work it out. If he did this, he’d only be proving Martin right and-

“I haven’t got all day dewdropper!” A voice from behind him said. He jumped and turned around. A tall man was standing behind him, looking rather put out. 

“Ah, sorry!” He said, stepping away from the door. The man muttered under his breath, but stormed into the laundromat. Parsley watched through the window as the two men talked for a while. They seemed to be very familiar with each other and, in a way, they almost reminded him of himself and Martin when they were much younger. Eventually though, the taller man said something, and the shorter one gestured for him to follow him. They went into the back room, and Parsley blushed. However, a moment later, the shorter man came back into the main room, looking almost sad. Parsley took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

“I was pondering when you might come in,” the short man said, frowning slightly. 

“Is that any way to treat a customer?” Parsley asked. “The least you could do is smile for me.” The short man nodded, and gestured for Parsley to follow him. They went into the back room and the short man began to shove at a bookshelf.

“Excuse me, this may take a moment,” he said, pushing his shoulders against the side of the bookshelf. Parsley stood there awkwardly for a moment, before reaching over and helping. With both of them, it took barely a minute. Still, the other man seemed almost out of breath.

“Are...are you okay?” Parsley asked. The man nodded.

“I despise working the counter…” He mumbled. He gave Parsley a smile though. “Enjoy your stay!” Parsley nodded and stepped into the hole in the wall that had been opened up by the bookshelf. He stepped onto some stairs, and turned to look behind him. The bookshelf began to slowly move again, and he rolled his eyes before trying to help shove it back in place. It took a while longed since there were no good hand holds on the back, and he hugged. It wasn’t a good system.

He shook his head and tried to stop thinking about how to advance an illegal establishment. He made his way down the stairs, the stairwell only lit by some very old oil lamps. There was a much better lit hallway at the bottom of the stairs, and he saw the tall man from earlier standing in front of a much more lavish door. The man raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Randy let you in huh? He always was too trusting,” the man said, looking Parsley up and down. Parsley felt a sudden wave of unease. “How do I know you aren’t a cop?”

“I guess you don’t…” Parsley replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve got no reason to turn any of you in though, I’m just looking for a stiff drink.” The man looked him over again, before opening the door.

“Go on in, but I’ve got an eye on you,” he said. Parsley nodded and headed into the speakeasy itself.

If he had taken the time to look around, he would’ve noticed a beautiful place. Outfitted with chandeliers and elegant construction, the place surely wasn’t a hole in the wall. A stage on the far end with two beautiful flappers singing and dancing, while a swing band was off to the side playing. A crowded dance floor full of people cutting a rug and having the time of their lives. Even a few tables with games of cards going on. The whole place was both swanky and cozy, and any one else would’ve taken a moment to take it all in.

But not Parsley, not tonight. He was tired, unsure of himself, and ever so slightly scared. So he just went to the bar right away. He wanted to put his face down on the bar, and he wasn’t even drunk yet. He felt on the verge of tears. He was doing exactly what Martin was mad at him for doing, and he hadn’t even done it in a little over a year. He heard the bartender come over and went to order. “Yeah, I’ll have a-” he looked up, realizing he was being rude.

His stomach dropped to his feet.

That was his dad. He looked...different. Older. That made sense, it’d been ten years. Better, somehow. Parsley didn’t know that people could look better, not in this way. He looked lighter. Not exactly happier, but like he was on the way to getting there. He looked so different Parsley almost didn’t recognize him. “...Dad?”

“I’m sorry to meet you again in a place like this, son.” Hi voice was hoarse. Kind of like he might cry, which almost made Parsley laugh.

He was different, but not different enough. He still had a crooked smile. He still had the mustache. His eyes were still a little sunken in, his knees still did...whatever the fuck that was. His voice was the same, and that comforted Parsley. Which only made him mad.

“I…” He couldn’t look at his dad, so he just looked down at his hands. “I just...I just need to get drunk. I can’t...this is too fucking much right now.” His dad walked off to prepare the drink. He...didn’t put in an order. Did his dad even remember what he liked? Apparently he did, because the drink he set down in front of him was good. He wasn’t even sure if it was an actual cocktail or just something that his dad had made one night. He hadn’t had anything like it, that he could remember. Then again, there were a few nights he couldn’t remember because of drinks. He hadn’t realized he’d chugged the entire drink until it was gone. “How much?” 

“It’s on the house for you,” his dad said, with a smile. It didn’t look genuine. His expression shifted, and Parsley’s stomach sunk again. That was the look his dad got when he was going to ask about his life. He hated that look. “What’s wrong, son? Did something happen?” There it was…

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, shaking his head. He didn’t want to think about it either. “Not here. Not now. Maybe…” he took a deep breath. He and Martin...they were fucked. As much as he tried to push it off, as much as he shoved it down...he knew it. But here, he had a choice. He could give his dad a second chance. “Maybe some other time.” His dad nodded and handed him another drink. He decided to take his time with this one. His dad grabbed a napkin and wrote something on it. He slid it across the bar to Parsley, who’s eyes widened when he looked at it. A number. He looked up at his dad and found he was shaking. Why was he shaking?

“You can...you can call me anytime. Whenever you’re ready.” He considered shoving it back at his dad and throwing the drink in his face but he wasn’t drunk enough to make that stupid decision yet. So, he pocketed it. 

“Thanks,” he said, and almost choked on his words. He’d almost called this man his dad. It was his dad, why couldn’t he…

Jimothan. Jimothan was safer. 

They sat (or stood? It depended on who you asked.) in silence for a moment. Parsley was taking a sip from the drink when Jimothan spoke again. 

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” Parsley choked on his drink and coughed. Jimothan didn’t seem to notice. “I want...I am better, and I want to keep getting better.” Parsley just stared at him. A better dad might’ve noticed that his son was choking. Then again...that probably wasn’t an easy thing for Jimothan to admit, he was probably focused on his words. And again...second chances.

“We should...catch up sometime. Like...get together, go on a walk, just...catch up.” He had a chance. He could make this better.

“I’d love that,” Jimothan said. His voice sounded strained, and when Parsley looked at him, he found that he was almost crying. Parsley just nodded and watched as Jimothan walked off to help another customer. 

He didn’t stick around for long after that. He felt awkward talking to Jimothan at all after that, even if it was only for a drink. So, he stuck around for a while, watched to flappers do their routine, and then hit the road. The walk back to Martin’s place seemed so much shorter now. He couldn’t help smiling either. Maybe...well, things weren’t fixed with...with Jimothan, but there was groundwork. Maybe he could fix things with Martin after all. 

Normally he would’ve gone back to his place, but he needed to see Martin. He rushed up the stairs to his apartment, knocking quietly on the door. Martin opened the door, still fully dressed, glasses and all. They just stared at each other for a moment, before Martin leaned over to look up and down the hallway. He stepped aside and Parsley walked in. He felt his heart sting at Martin’s need to check, but he knew why. It didn’t hurt less.

“Parsley, I-” Parsley held his hand up to stop Martin.

“I’m sorry Martin, I shouldn’t’ve gotten mad at you. You were…” He bit his lip. Martin wasn’t in the right...he wasn’t either of course but… “I’m sick of fighting. I miss when we were happy.” Martin smiled sadly at him.

“We are happy...I just…” Martin blinked a few times, and Parsley realized that he was holding back tears. “Come here.” He held his arms open, and Parsley came over to hug him. They held each other tightly for a few minutes, before Martin suddenly went slack in his arms. “Parsley...you smell like alcohol.” Parsley froze.

“I...no, I can explain, wait-” Martin shoved him. Not hard, just enough to break the hug. He was crying. Parsley reached for him, but he stepped back.

“Why do you smell like alcohol?” He asked, his voice shaky.

“I…” Parsley hung his head in shame. “I went to a speakeasy. But it’s the first time I’ve ever been, I didn’t...I swear I…” 

“You’ll argue with me for hours that you’re clean and then turn around and go to a speakeasy?” Martin said. His voice was so betrayed and Parsley felt everything start to crumble around him. “What the hell Parsley?”

“I know, I was wrong, but I promise, I’ve been clean this whole time, I-”

“No!” Martin yelled, and Parsley flinched. “I’m not going to let you lie to me again!” Tears were streaming down his face. “I’m sick of it Parsley! Just..get out…” Parsley stared at Martin.

“This is fifteen…” he whispered. Martin perked up.

“What?” 

“This is the fifteenth time you’ve told me to get out. Over a problem that didn’t exist until today.” He rolled his shoulders. He clenched his teeth. “I’m not coming back this time.” He pushed past Martin into the bedroom.

“I…” Martin stopped himself from speaking as Parsley gathered up a few of his things. “Maybe...that’s a good idea.” Parsley grabbed his stuff and turned to go. “No...no hard feelings?” Parsley looked Martin in the eyes. The tears there were misguided. Parsley hadn’t done anything until tonight. Martin had done things wrong too. He could save this. This was his second chance. This was the dumbest way for them to split, it wasn’t even a real fight…

He slammed the door and ran.

He ran the whole way back to his apartment, clutching his stuff. He didn’t cry, just ran. He was out of breath by the time he got back to his apartment. He threw the stuff from Martin’s into the corner of his room, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. He sobbed into it, curled up on the bed, just screaming and crying. He didn’t care if his neighbors heard.

After about an hour, he rolled over, still sobbing, but not screaming. Something fell out of his pocket. He stared at it, the napkin with Jimothan’s number on it. He threw the pillow to the floor, and stood quickly, gripping it in his hand. He dug around in one of his drawers until he pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on and held the napkin up to it. But he stopped before he burned it. He watched the flame, he stared at the numbers on the napkins.

“Second chances…” he muttered to himself. “To people who...who deserve them.” It was harsh to Martin, but he was hurt. He flicked the lighter closed and set it down. He went over to the phone and picked it up. He talked to the operator, gave them the number. He waited as it rang. On the fourth ring, someone picked up.

“Hello? Jimothan Botch speaking.”

“Hey Jim…” Second chances. “Hey Dad. Can we talk?”


End file.
